I never knew what was to come of the few early steps in creating Gophilanthropic, let alone what life would look like after, without her. Perhaps like our loved ones, we greet each day assuming they will always be there. We don’t plan for the morning when they are gone.
Thankfully, I have lived long enough to trust in the notion that the spirit of things remain. As I listen to the much-needed rain falling from the sky out of my bedroom window in Provence, I assign myself the task of describing, as best as I can, what this little foundation, a speck in the grand world of giving, of philanthropy, was all about. Perhaps in doing so, I’ll know how to reach for her whenever I want. Maybe this way, she won’t ever really be gone.
It started with a dream— and not even mine. It was my husband John’s dream about a child named Zulu, who lived in a harsh and unforgiving place. She had one leg amputated below the right knee. He had wanted to help, he was eager and open. Zulu– less so. Without speaking any words she let him know there was work to be done before his giving could be fully received. This all makes sense now, in a million and one ways, but it certainly didn’t then.
Combining philanthropy with travel sounded like such a naturally good union. Two meaningful activities that could lend themselves so easily to one another. What a “nice thing to do,” people would say. Yet as we learned from Zulu, it wasn’t going to be that simple. And now that it has been lived, even less so to describe.
A gust of cool wind blows through the room like an unexpected guest, and with it comes a thought in the form of a single word, clear as day.
Parable, it says.
Surprised at first, and somewhat unsure of the exact definition, I follow my clue and look it up. A short tale that illustrates a universal truth; a simple story used to illustrate a moral or spiritual lesson.
My mind wanders to Santiago, the shepherd in Paolo Coelho’s, The Alchemist, who followed a dream of traveling far away in search of a treasure. It’s a short tale, a simple story, you could say a parable. At the time that I read it, it had opened my eyes in many ways. Since then, I have returned to its pages often, especially during the difficult moments in building the foundation, when the road became unclear. It reminded me to follow the heart, that it would always show us the way. I wonder if perhaps within that story lies GoPhil’s parable, our own lessons of truth.
And how might that tale go?
Like Santiago, we set off on the road, rather blindly, not knowing what experiences and lessons we would encounter along the way. Our dream was simple— to offer our help, where it was needed most. We ventured to lands unknown, walking alongside some very determined and passionate people, doing brave and bold things, for the benefit of others. As we walked, they told us their stories. Some were very uplifting, and others, very sad. We listened intently, to their hopes and to their dreams. We shared our desire to help, in whatever way we could. Most seemed quite surprised at the idea, yet pleased with our unexpected offer. And so, we joined them on the road, letting them lead the way.
They brought us through some dark and scary places, where parts of the path were incredibly steep. At times we had to sit to catch our breath. When it became clear that helping was going to involve a harsher terrain than we had anticipated, there was a moment of pause, a looking over the shoulder, back to where we had come from.
Do we carry on? How prepared are we for this journey? What exactly do we have to offer our new friends?
Tired and scared of the unknown, we took a long and deep inhale. We looked at the winding road before us, then over to our walking partners, who didn’t seem to be showing the same signs of fear or fatigue. In fact, they seemed to get stronger as the road got harder. Inspired by their force, we searched from within and found more of our own. And so we walked on, together.
To pass the time, we would often sing. At first we thought our songs were different, as we all sang in our natives tongues. But over time we noticed the melodies were similar. They were, in fact, the very same song. Astonished, we shared what the words meant in our spoken languages. In each case, the song spoke of a wonderful time, in a place way way up amongst the stars, where there was no suffering, pain, or injustice. It spoke of a place filled with joy, love and compassion, where all living things lived in peace and harmony, as it was meant to be.
We couldn’t help from smiling as we sang our hearts out. It brought out such beauty in each one of us, and soon, a radiant light was cast everywhere around. As we made our way, up hills and down, our song seemed to make the hard journey much lighter and easier, especially in the steepest parts, where help was needed most.
Over time, our song echoed throughout the hills, and before we knew it, many more people had joined in. Some brought stories of their own brave and bold work and others simply listened. We all walked. And when the valley grew dark and silent, everyone sang.
GoPhil’s story unfolded like this, on the road. There were thousands of acts of kindness, and the people, and places we visited, taught us many great lessons. At the end of our journey, it was no longer clear, and no longer mattered, who was telling the stories and who was listening. We had all shown up. And just as it was for Santiago, our travels had transformed us.
Our journey didn’t put an end to the hardships that our friends recounted, but we had traveled together, comforted by something shared and understood by all. If there were hills to climb, we had faced them together, singing, as one.
The philosophy of The Alchemist suggests that we are part of one indivisible unity–speaking, or in our case singing, from “the soul of the world.” Perhaps the message behind GoPhil’s parable lies in that one melody, that one singular song, vibrating with the beauty and power that resides in all of us.
The rain is now coming down in earnest, washing away the dust and heat of summer months. I get up to close the window, feeling a great sense of relief. While nostalgia washes over me in waves, I can hear the distant hum of singing, and I smile.
“In writing about our experiences through this vast yet sometimes harsh and complex planet, I discovered that joy could be found in the most unexpected places, in the simplest, most basic things. I would learn later, though, that even greater joy is found in sharing them.
The travels and encounters were a series of risks and opportunities strung together on some thin but incredibly strong piece of universal thread. They would lead me to a place where I would be asked to learn about who I am and then offer my best to humanity. GoPhilanthropic was, in a large part, my way of doing this. It’s funny how, in the moment, we can’t quite see the beautiful order of things as we are living them. As several philosophers have pointed out, if you let go of the need to control how and when things happen, life will unfold like a well-ordered book.”
Jumping the Picket Fence, 2015